The Doors of My Mind
by sanseiryu
Summary: A love poem to my wife


I wonder if you can still recall, memories unblocked by walls,

or by closed off paths in the mind that meander and become forgotten passages over the years.

There are some I can still see, clear as a crystal glass, one being that first Hello.

Your name, you whispered to me, it resonates, still rings to this day,

makes me remember things about you that reminds me that love was powerful and all consuming.

So strong I felt I was burning, so often I felt frightened, head churning, with want and longing.

Looking at you, so close, I could feel the heat from you stoking and building my inner fire.

Lay me down and lie with me, together we were one, trying to capture the moment that would fulfill passions fate.

No matter our youth, no matter inexperience, innocence unencumbered by guilt or measure,

make for remembrances so precious, a price above rubies, a quiet secreted treasure.

Walk with me down these paths and embrace the crystaline moments again.

The touch of your hand on mine and the brush of your lips, so sweet, berries on the vine,

so ripe as to burst, those things I do remember first, of all.

This way, through this hall, around this dusty wall, I remember, my kiss on your throat, the taste of your skin,

it alights upon my tongue, a butterfly kiss. It tickles my mouth not fully but with just a hint, fragrant with delight.

Another door opens and I am caressing your skin. My fingers tingle with sensation, such hesitation, can I touch?

Yes you say, and guide my fingers, to explore. With you I learn your hidden places.

Past this door, something that engages my soul, the sound of your laughter,

unmistakably you, laughter in your eyes as you reach out to pull me close

and your head falls to my chest and I can feel your laughter in my core.

This way, the door swinging on hinges, I see I'm lost in your soft hair.

I lie still as you brush me with your shining tresses. Artistry, or designs, I become a canvas for your imagination,

strokes here, brushing me there, layer upon layer, you build me up, you excite me as you excite yourself, a portrait to last throughout all of time.

What is behind this door so inviting? A chair. I see you sitting, me kneeling before you, your hands in my hair.

I can still feel the silkiness and your taste. I could drink you in, timeless, languid, no sense of urgency.

I reach up to clasp your hand, in the touch a spark, a surge, never felt before. It stuns, it bonds you to me.

Now on my bed, under my gaze, you are beautiful I say, forever beautiful you shall remain.

So many doors, so many to choose. So through this one I go. This one makes my heart skip, makes it begin to pound,

the memory of your voice tingles, the seductive murmur. Whispers, wordless, sighs and gasps.

I can hear it all slinking and inviting, sinuous and ethereal, a mist surrounds me with the passionate sounds.

All else is banished, we float among the stars in heaven, illuminated by the glow.

Let's enter this door. I see us with the release of passion in each others arms, earthbound now, just the light of a normal day.

Summer heat, sweat glistens on our skin and make us slick as we move against each other.

Now I am the artist, my fingers my brush, skating on the surface of your wet skin, leaving traces of it's journey on a wonderland.

Your breath in my ear, urging me on, delicious anticipation in the inflection of your whispers.

One last door I go through without delay. I see a mirror large and clear. Now I see you standing before it unclothed and beautiful to behold.

I come up and wrap my arms around you, your eyes downcast. I look at your reflection and I see my love.

My hands slowly rise following the shape of your body. You place your hands on mine and guide them higher and higher.

My hands are filled, you squeeze my hands and I squeeze you in turn, texture, firmness, warmth and smoothness,

excitation I can feel in the palms of my hands. You finally gaze into the mirror and find my eyes.

You reach back with your arm and pull my head into you.

My mouth is in your ear, then travels down the length of your neck, my lips, feather light in it's exploration.

My left hand releases you and glides down between your legs and finds you waiting.

You gasp when I enter, we move against each other till resolution, we capture each others gaze,

a kind of madness that can consume a soul, desperate love, frightening in its power and lasting effects.

Memories like these are well worn paths in my mind, any of these moments I can remember with total recall.

Or do you have memories to relate to me? What I have lost, do you still retain?

Have your paths vanished, with little trace, blending into the darkness.

I can still lose myself when alone and find myself before some doors that will no longer open.

What have I forgotten? What lies hidden within. Can you remember? Have your recollections of me faded?

So sad. Yet still in my head, fortunately, there remain paths that are walked with ultimate care, tread upon lightly,

so as to maintain the doors, ensuring that they open with ease, memories of you, may they not be forgotten in the pathways of my mind.


End file.
